6:13 p.m. | 2003-02-09 Mr. Moms, Happy Homemaking & The Whistler. Today I needed to get a few things done that I don�t like to do. Namely, grocery shopping, cleaning, and laundry. However, I know how to successfully manipulate myself so I knew what I needed to do to prod myself into action. I made a list. I don�t think I�ve ever mentioned my love of lists before. I like making lists of things to do solely so I can cross stuff off and feel like I�ve accomplished something. The more motivation I need, the more I break my list down into components so I can cross off more stuff. Yeah. I had 20 things on my list today. First stop? The grocery store. I�m not really sure why I don�t like grocery shopping. I love eating and enjoy cooking but shopping just seems tedious to me. Maybe it�s because I have to carry all my own groceries. Maybe it�s because it�s always fucking freezing in the store. Maybe it�s because I�ve been doing it for over 20 fucking years now and the glamour�s worn off. I don�t know. Anyway, to make it more entertaining, I combine my shopping with people watching. For some bizarre reason the store was chock full of fathers with their kids today. Must be some white sale somewhere. Really, the store was full of men, kids and old people. Well, and me. Here�s what I learned about father/kid shopping. The kids get more stuff outta dads than moms, they get to do fun stuff like hang off baskets and climb shelves, and they seem to have more fun. There�s a lot less conflict, yelling, screaming, crying and tantrums. Interestingly, the kids are better behaved too. Makes that bag of M&Ms seem worth it huh? Shopping was followed by exciting shit like cleaning and laundry. It�s not that I hate doing either of those things, it just seems like I�m always doing them. It�s like a continuous game of d�j� vu. Didn�t I just do all this shit? Like yesterday? I didn�t have to cook anything for my breakfasts this week as I decided to have turkey pastrami sandwiches (on dill rye bread with Claussen chill dill pickle slices, cheddar cheese and Monterey jack cheese with jalapenos) and vegetable salads. I just prepared a couple of day�s worth so I can grab and go in the morning. Then, finally, just as I was sitting down to relax for the evening, one of my birds decided to play a rousing game of "whistle this tune" with me. Let me back up a little on this whole thing. You see, I took in Mr. Whistler (cockatiel) about 5 years ago because he was being abused and needed a new home. He was around 8 years old at the time. (They live up to into their 20s.) Mr. Whistler was never socialized with other birds and spent many years being terrorized by an Amazon Gray Parrot, so he�s a wee bit sensitive (read: total bundle of anxiety). Now, somewhere over the first 8 years, someone taught him to wolf-whistle (that�s the whistle that construction workers do when women walk by a site). He�s actually quite accomplished at doing many different variations of this whistle. As this whistle is only recognized by humans and not other birds, I became his whistling partner. Only one little problem. I never learned how to whistle. Since I�ve had Mr. Whistler, I�ve learned how to whistle some but it�s not something I�m real good at. Here�s how the whistling game goes. Mr. Whistler starts with the common wolf-whistle which I repeat. Then each time he changes it a little and I do my damn best to mimic him. By the end of a 15-minute session, he�s all happy and stuff and I�m beet red, clutching the furniture and hyperventilating. The funny thing is, I often find myself whistling one of his little tunes in public which, of course, makes no sense to any humans or birds within earshot. So there you are. A little day-in-the-life of Cruel-Irony. I have to admit it�s not as fascinating as a day-in-the-life of Michael Jackson, but it�s not as disturbing either, huh? your thoughts? seed flower